


must be like the genesis of rhythm

by segmentcalled



Series: i wanna wake up with you [5]
Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Begging, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Riding, Strap-Ons, Top!Brian, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 22:40:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19450939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/segmentcalled/pseuds/segmentcalled
Summary: Pat doesn’t know how he managed to get here. Brian is brilliant and funny and charming and witty and hotter than any human being has any right to be, and he kisses like a dream, and he’s already figured out like all of the random little things that turn Pat on and some extra ones besides.





	must be like the genesis of rhythm

**Author's Note:**

> _if i'm butter than he's a hot knife,_  
>  _he makes my heart a cinemascope screen_  
>  _showing a dancing bird of paradise_  
>  \- [hot knife,](https://open.spotify.com/track/0M9XH6VIb1w95bytxf4rxa) fiona apple (cover by gq because it Fuckin Rules)
> 
> surprise! more of this au decided it needed to be written. if you havent read the first installment, at least check out the authors notes first because the same comments/notes apply. im a certified trans this is within my wheelhouse

Pat doesn’t know how he managed to get here. Brian is brilliant and funny and charming and witty and hotter than any human being has any right to be, and he kisses like a dream, and he’s already figured out like all of the random little things that turn Pat on and some extra ones besides, and he has a fucking _array_ of strap-ons in a rainbow of colors and Pat just can’t, he can’t believe this man is so interested in him, can’t imagine what he sees in him so much that he wants to keep sticking around.

But Brian presses Pat up against his bedroom door and kisses him slow and hot, curling his fingers into Pat’s shirt and his tongue into his mouth, and all Pat can do is whine at him because he’s been teasing him all fucking _day,_ sneaking up behind him at his desk and putting a hand on his shoulder and stroking his thumb across his neck, sitting real close next to him and running his fingers along the seam on the inside thigh of his jeans, grabbing his ass when they’re the only ones in the break room and making Pat _squeak_ in surprise —

But the teasing must do it for Brian, too, because as he hitches his thigh up between Pat’s legs he angles himself so he can grind on Pat, and he can feel the heat of him through layers of fabric.

“C’mon, baby boy,” Brian says against Pat’s neck, his voice low, almost a growl. “Tell me what you want tonight.” He pushes his hands up Pat’s shirt and lightly drags blunt fingernails down Pat’s sides, making him draw a sharp breath.

“God, I — I don’t wanna decide.” He doesn’t want to say exactly what he is thinking ‘cause he is too shy to be that brazen — Brian would, he’s sure of it, he can say anything without a second thought no matter how filthy it is —

“Patrick,” Brian says, stern.

You know what? Fuck it. He might as well get what he wants.

He waits till Brian is mouthing at his neck again and in his best breathless gasp — which is not an effort, nor put-on — says _I want you to use me daddy just fuck me up however you want_ and Brian’s whole _being_ reacts to that. He shoves Pat harder against the door with a _thunk_ and bites him behind his ear and rolls his hips down against Pat’s thigh.

“Fucking _Christ,_ Pat Gill, do you have any idea what you do to me?” Brian hisses, and then pushes off of the door and folds his arms and studies Pat, who is still where Brian left him, who is obviously hard and desperate already. “Clothes off. Get on the bed.”

Pat hastens to oblige.

“On your back. Good boy,” Brian says, glancing at Pat as he rummages through a drawer. “Stay right there and don’t move. Hands at your sides or above your head.”

Brian doesn’t even turn to check if Pat obeys. He doesn’t need to, because Pat likes to listen. Likes to be told he’s good. Likes to not have to make decisions, every once in a while.

Watching isn’t a crime, though everything’s a bit blurry without his glasses, but he can still appreciate how fucking good Brian’s ass and thighs look as he bends down to pick something up — probably, actually, entirely for Pat’s benefit — and the smooth lines of his back, the way his muscles move as he undresses and gets everything set up just so. Pat’s — particular, about a lot of things, and Brian’s not so bad as all that, but he can appreciate him wanting to have his ducks in a row.

(Or dicks in a row. There’s a row of dicks in that drawer. Pat knows this. He bites the inside of his lip against a wholly inappropriate snicker.)

But finally he climbs into the bed and sits down on Pat’s thighs.

“‘Sup, baby boy,” Brian says, and leans down to kiss him, real slow and sweet. “Look at you, you lovely thing, being so good for me. I love it.”

Pat just smiles against his lips, and Brian kisses him again before he sits up.

“God, Pat, I wanna make you _scream,”_ he says. Pat’s cock twitches, just from his tone, and Brian’s smile is so very smug. They have the apartment to themselves, tonight, so they don’t even have to worry about disturbing roommates. “I’ve got plans for you, baby boy. Up and at ‘em, mister,” he says, teasing, already nudging Pat around to get him where he wants him. Pat goes pliant, obliging, lets him.

“Alright, pretty boy. I know you’re a little worked up already, but you’re gonna have to have some patience yet. You’re gonna take my cock, and I’ve gotta get you ready first. I don’t want to tie you up —” This is a blatant lie, and Pat knows it. “— but if you don’t keep your hands where I want them then I will.”

Pat considers this. Rolls the thought around in his mind. Likes how Brian gives him a choice like this, for him to get what he wants without having to say it. It’s so hard to say it, sometimes. And tonight he just wants to be good of his own volition. Wants the chance to try, at least.

(And if he can’t manage it, well, he doesn’t mind the alternative in the slightest.)

So he keeps his arms folded above his head, just where Brian had told him to put them, and watches and waits.

He doesn’t have to wait for very long at all. Pat is fussy as hell about fingering himself, and usually won’t, but Brian has no such qualms. Which is fortunate; they make a great match. (Well. They do in many more aspects than just this.)

Pat is reactive, eager — wants it real bad, gets worked up real fast, and Brian is endlessly patient. Brian can go for-fucking- _ever_ if he wants to, and is more than willing to take Pat along with him for the ride. More than willing to work him up and keep him there, begging for release, watching Brian get himself off however many times he wants in whatever way he wants before he finally lets Pat come.

Brian sits between Pat’s legs. Hooks a hand under his thigh and lifts his leg up, like he’s gonna put it over his shoulder.

Pat laughs a little. “Brian, you know I’m not nearly as flexible as you.”

“I’m gonna start making you do stretches,” Brian grouches, all bark and no bite, and gives Pat his leg back. Instead, he curls himself down over Pat to press kisses to his neck, his collarbone, his chest. Pat closes his eyes to enjoy it. Just as he’s starting to relax into the gentle touch of his mouth, Brian bites him on the chest — not gently — and at the same time presses into him with a lubed fingertip and Pat moans.

Brian is talented at this — as he is talented at most everything, honestly — and he knows how to make it real good, to make Pat writhe under his hands and mouth, to wring desperate little sounds out of him. By the time Brian deems him ready, his chest is littered with bruises and bite marks — there’s an _O_ of tooth marks around his nipple, only slightly red now, where Brian bit him fucking _hard_ and made him cry out in pleasure-pain —

“Alright, baby boy. Gonna go wash my hands and then you’re gonna take my cock, okay? Do you need something to do while I’m gone?”

Pat nods.

“Touch yourself,” Brian says. “Anywhere but your cock. Make it feel good. Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Mmhm.”

“What was that?”

“Yes, daddy.”

His eyes are closed, but he can hear Brian’s smile in his voice. “Good boy. I’ll be right back.”

Pat presses a thumb into a fresh bruise on his chest. It aches, pleasantly, and he moves his fingers down to trace around his nipple, pinch it lightly. He drops his other hand to restlessly run his fingers up the inside of his thigh — not touching anywhere he’s not supposed to, of course, but the proximity is good. He doesn’t — do this, for his own self, very often; if he’s going to jerk off, he just focuses on the main event, pretty much, and forgets how good everything else can feel. He trades the jobs of his hands, and he sighs at the sensation as he hears Brian come back into the room.

“Oh, you’re so good, look at you,” Brian says, and then he is close to Pat and gently stroking his hair. Pat blinks his eyes open to look at him. He’s got the harness on, now, with the purple sparkly dildo that is his favorite. “You ready for me, baby?”

“Please,” Pat says, and Brian smiles, traces Pat’s cheek with a fingertip.

“So sweet,” he says. “You can touch me, now, if you’d like. I know you like that when you’re getting fucked.”

“You’re so good to me, daddy,” Pat murmurs. Trails his fingertips over Brian’s thigh, focusing on the tactile experience of smooth skin and soft hairs.

“Darling,” Brian says, warmly, “dearest. You are perfect. I love making you feel good.”

With that declaration, he moves with careful deliberation, lines himself up to rock his hips just enough to slide the tip of his cock into Pat. Pat’s eyes flutter shut and his hand grips at Brian’s thigh.

“Good?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Brian pets at Pat’s hip and pushes in deeper. Pat can’t help but moan. Brian has good reason to favor this toy, it’s just the right size to make Pat really feel it, slightly textured in a way that feels fucking incredible as it presses into him.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you’re begging for it,” Brian says, his voice low and soft and a little rough. “And then I’m gonna ride you ‘till you fucking scream for me, Pat Gill. You’re gonna make me come twice before you do. You got that?”

“Yes. Sir,” Pat adds, quickly. It’s hard to make words, with Brian’s hips rocking like that, shallow thrusts of his cock, fucking into him just the tiniest bit deeper each time. He will _never_ understand the control this man has over his hips, fuck, but he will never stop being grateful for it.

“Thank you, baby. Tell me if I’m going too fast.”

“You can go faster,” Pat says.

“Mm. I see,” Brian says. Oh, that wicked grin. Oh, dear.

He fucks into Pat rough, fast, hard enough to shift Pat on the bed, make him grab on to Brian and wrench a moan out of him.

Brian, damn him, just laughs. “Don’t ask for it if you can’t take it, baby boy.”

Pat whines. It’s not _fair,_ this doesn’t really put any stimulation on Brian at all, and he can already come like a zillion times anyway, he doesn’t need more excuses to drag this out for Pat. But he grabs a handful of Pat’s hair and yanks his head back and bites at his throat.

“Fuck, Patrick, you’re gorgeous. You’re _mine.”_ This is punctuated by a particularly hard thrust, as though he might be able to divine more than incidental pleasure through it. Pat has one hand on Brian’s thigh, his fingers digging in maybe too hard, and Brian is holding his other hand, their fingers linked, pressed down on the bed.

Brian licks Pat’s neck and mouths at his jaw and bites at his lips, possessive. He’s relentless, with his movements, each thrust of his hips dragging little desperate grunts from Pat, a sound he couldn’t hush even if he wanted to.

“Baby boy, I’m gonna need to hear a lot more from you if you ever want to come,” Brian says, cheerfully. God he is the worst.

(He’s the _best._ Pat is so fucking full of love for him.)

Pat doesn’t know where to start. Doesn’t know what exactly Brian wants. But then Brian gets him by the wrists — god if anything gets him riled up real fuckin’ fast it’s that — and pins them over his head, balancing on all fours as he fucks into Pat.

“You gonna be good for me, babe? Gonna let me fuck you up right?” Brian says, sugar-sweet.

Pat nods. It’s all he can do, at the moment, around the openmouthed gasping breaths. But he knows he’s gonna have to talk. Gonna have to make words.

“Tell me how much you want it, pretty boy. I want you to _beg_ me to do whatever I want to you.”

This does it; Brian somehow finds the secret switch to Pat’s words, every time.

(Maybe he just wants to let someone else run the show. Maybe, deep down, what he really wants is for someone to tell him what to do, so he can be good for them.)

“Please — Brian, please, please, you feel so good inside me, I want you to take me, I want you to fuck me, I want — _nnh_ — I want your cock. I want you to — to take me _apart. Please.”_ He keens in desperation as Brian angles just right, hitting the spot deep inside him that makes him light up with pleasure. And then the words are coming out in a rush. “God please yes please daddy I need you I need you so bad please — _please_ — I want anything you’ll give me daddy please I’ll be so good, so good for you I promise, I’ll do whatever you want, please —“

Brian kisses him, hard. Pat moans into his mouth, because he’s stopped moving and he’s all the way inside Pat and it feels so fucking good and he needs more, he needs, he _needs_ —

“Fingers or mouth, Pat?”

“Mouth,” he says, without hesitation, not even caring what context, or whose mouth, or where it’ll go —

“Oh, you’re so good, baby. I’m gonna sit on your face, okay? And you’re gonna make me come before I even do so much as _think_ about getting on your cock.”

“Thank you,” Pat gasps.

“Such good manners! What a good boy. You want something inside you, for this?”

He does, very badly, but the thought of being empty and wanting is good _too._ Fuck. “You choose.”

“Okay, baby. I got you. Hold still, I’ll be just a minute.”

Pat is gripping the headboard white-knuckled with both hands by the time Brian has finished his interlude. He is slowly, slowly, _slowly_ working a plug into Pat, larger than what Brian was just fucking him with. He’s moaning and begging Brian as Brian persistently ignores Pat’s cock. Brian kisses Pat’s knee and gives a little soft exhale and presses in just a little more and Pat cries out, needy, desperate, as the plug is finally seated inside him.

“You alright, baby?” Brian asks. Pat nods frantically. “Good.”

Not five seconds pass before Brian maneuvers himself to kneel over Pat’s face, his legs on either side of Pat’s head. He reaches down to wind his hands into Pat’s hair.

“Eat me out, baby boy, and make it _good._ Touch me wherever you want. You’re gonna make me come, okay?”

Pat nods, with a slow exhale that makes Brian shiver. Pat puts his hands on Brian’s thighs and shifts him where he needs to be for this to work. He’s worked up, desperate, keeps shifting his hips even though it makes it worse, moves the plug in his ass, but it feels so _fucking_ good that he can’t help it. But even with all that, he’s determined.

He licks over Brian’s entrance, drags the flat of his tongue over his clit because it makes his whole body twitch, but moves away again. He can come real quick with a vibe, just a whole bunch of times, but it takes longer when he’s not shoving direct, intense stimulation against his clit and Pat doesn’t exactly have the fortitude to keep that up.

But he does know what Brian likes. He was so fucking bossy the first few times Pat went down on him; the most thoroughly micromanaged blowjobs Pat has ever given. But, worth it, for how he now knows how to methodically take him apart. He teases at his opening with his tongue until Brian’s breathing hitches and he gasps _yes, Patrick, yes, just like that, such a good boy,_ and when he hears Brian moan he fucks his tongue into him and he groans, starts to rock his hips down — stops himself before he gets too carried away, cautious of Pat’s, y’know, goddamn face.

When Brian’s thighs are shaking, when he’s slurring out a string of curses and _yes_ and _god_ and _oh fuck oh Pat,_ he finally puts his attention back on his clit and does his level best to apply his mouth constructively, chasing the beautiful moans Brian makes when he does something right, when finally he comes, crying out, twitching against Pat’s mouth, and he moans against him.

Brian swings his leg back over Pat and scoots down the bed to kiss him, hot and rough. Pat swears Brian’s first orgasm never does nothing but rile him up, honestly.

“Thank you, baby, that was so good. I’m gonna ride you now, ‘kay?”

Pat nods. He thinks his mouth is hanging open a little, in awe of this beautiful incredible man who has him here, like this.

Brian is fucking effortless in his movements, straddles Pat and sinks down on him in one graceful motion, not even fucking _hesitating_ as he takes his cock. Brian throws his head back, his hands on Pat’s hips, moans in a way that would seem showy if it wasn’t so fucking sincere.

He rides Pat like it’s his goddamn job, like it’s his god-given duty, like there is not a single other thing in the world he’d rather be doing. It’s a lot. It’s flattering. It’s _intense._ He fucks himself hard and fast — the sounds as they move together are _obscene_ — and Pat’s too far gone to even make words, just desperate begging sounds, as Brian pins his wrists to the bed and leans forward to hiss filthy wonderful things in his ear about how fucking hot Pat is and how he’s such a good boy and how he wants Pat to come inside him and how he loves the sounds he’s making and how much he loves Pat, loves fucking Pat, loves making him fall apart like this —

Pat would love to give Brian the benefit of a shout when he comes, but he can’t ever manage to make a sound — his whine chokes off and he thrusts up hard into Brian as he comes, and Brian keeps moving, works him through it and past the point of overstimulation, ‘till Brian finally comes and there’s overwhelmed tears leaking from Pat’s eyes.

Brian flops down next to him and presses sweet little kisses to his face, kisses the tears away, brushes his sweaty hair out of his face and strokes his fingers over his cheeks until Pat’s heart rate slows and his breathing steadies and he tucks his head under Brian’s chin.

“I love you,” Brian murmurs into Pat’s hair. “How are you doing?”

“So good,” Pat sighs. “I love you so much. I wanna cuddle you all fuckin’ night.”

“Good, that’s my plan!” Brian says, and Pat can hear the smile in his voice. “But, uh. First we gotta get that plug out of you and clean up.”

“Fuck,” Pat whines, dragging out the word in a complaint.

“Sorry, baby, them’s the breaks. I was, I was thinking though. If you wanted to branch out in the aftercare department. I, uh, d’you want to take a bath together? Laura dragged me to Lush and I got a couple bath bombs —“

“Fuck yeah,” Pat says, and kisses the corner of Brian’s mouth. Brian beams.

“Okay, let’s move in that direction then. Get comfy for me? I know you’re really sensitive right now, I’ll be real careful.”

Pat makes a truly pathetic keening whimper as Brian slowly works the plug out of Pat; it is _sofuckingmuch_ sensation and he’s so fucked out that it aches and his cock twitches but there’s no way, there’s no fucking way he can get it going again, and when it’s finally out he’s just kind of lying there gasping, feeling empty and exhausted.

Brian comes back to kiss his face and nuzzle him and fuss at him until he’s sure Pat’s okay, until Pat can finally drag himself upright and follow Brian to the bathroom. He gets into the shower as Brian does his usual cleaning and fussing so he can give himself a cursory wash first. Brian nudges him out of the way to join him, a few minutes later, after Pat’s watched him dart in and out of the room, forgetting things and remembering them.

Pat is still fairly out of it, watching Brian absently. Brian keeps brushing against Pat, touches his arm, his hip, his back, his shoulder, light touches that keep Pat grounded. Brian guides him where he wants him to be by touch, says soft things to him like _how’s the temperature_ and _that feel nice?_ and _come here baby_ and _I got you._

Pat finally settles, leaning back against Brian’s chest, between the V of his legs. Brian is humming something, a song Pat doesn’t know, the vibrations of the sound thrumming through Pat as he runs his fingers through Pat’s hair. The bathwater is purple and smells like lavender. 

Brian litters soft, featherlight kisses over the tops of Pat’s shoulders. “You okay, baby?”

“Mhm,” Pat says.

“You sure? You’re awful quiet.”

“Just kinda spacey. I’ll be fine.”

“‘I’ll be fine’ is a lot different than ‘I’m okay,’ Patrick,” Brian says gently.

“I’m okay, really. Promise. Everything was really really good. Just need some time. This is nice. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m really good. That was amazing, Pat, you’re incredible.” He’s tracing little absentminded patterns on Pat’s hip under the water. The best thing by far about Brian’s apartment is the great big goddamn bathtub, Pat decides, because if he slouches down and sort of turns a little sideways he can have his legs and most of his torso completely underwater all at once and that’s pretty cool, because he’s got really long goddamn legs and it’s so annoying to have your wet knees sticking out of the water being cold in the room-temperature air.

“What are you doing, Pat,” Brian says, with amusement, and Pat realizes he probably looks pretty silly wiggling and splashing around under the purple water to see how much of him he can submerge without 1.) drowning or 2.) invoking above complaint about knees.

“Science,” Pat says, and Brian laughs. “Wasn’t there some dude who had some breakthrough about something or other in the bath and then ran around naked all over the place yelling about it?”

“I think it was something about mass and water displacement, maybe? Also, it’s probably apocryphal.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Sorry, I mean: yes, absolutely, I was there and I saw it and it was very funny.”

Pat snickers and turns his head to nuzzle his face against Brian’s jaw. He feels as much as sees him smile, and he shifts so he can touch Brian better, run his hand over his arm, his shoulder, his collarbone, his chest. He’s not especially hairy — well, his legs are, but they’re underwater — his skin is soft and smooth (he bets this fucker has, like, a skincare routine), with long-healed ridged scars at the bottom of his pecs, not especially noticeable unless you’re up close or tracing fingertips across his skin, feeling the contrast of texture. Brian’s not self-conscious, though also doesn’t love too much overt attention on it, and Pat doesn’t focus his touch there.

It’s better, anyway, to let his fingers dance over his ribs, to make him shiver and try not to react to the ticklish feeling of it; to trace over the veins on the inside of his wrist; to run his thumb down his sternum, pressing just enough to feel where solid ribcage ends and give way to soft belly; to tuck his face against the side of his neck and _siiiiiigh_ and relax against him.

He fully intends to say something, like, sappy, or sweet, but instead what comes out of his mouth is, “I’m so fuckin’ glad I don’t have to worry about accidentally sitting on your dick,” and Brian doubles over in helpless, cackling laughter. Pat buries his face in his hands in shame, laughing too, embarrassed, but glad anyway to make Brian laugh.

“I love you, oh my _god,”_ Brian wheezes, hugging Pat tighter where he has his arm around him.

“I love you too,” Pat sighs, as Brian keeps giggling at him. Pat flicks some water at him, which he immediately regrets, because he can _feel_ Brian’s muscles tense in anticipation of retaliation. “Nonononono, Bri- _an_ —”

He is tackled — well, as much as he can be, with Brian sitting directly behind him, really it’s more like Brian just sort of grabs him — and veritably covered in giggly smiling kisses. Pat feigns drama and collapses against him and says _oh no! you got me!_ just to make Brian keep laughing, which he _does._ Brian’s wiggly as hell, fidgety at all times always, and he drums his fingers against Pat’s bicep and scoots up close to him and puts his chin on Pat’s shoulder and he’s smiling, smiling so _much._

They stay there until neither of them can deal with how cold the water is starting to get. Brian, who thinks of everything, has laid out his very fluffiest towels for them, and fusses over Pat when he complains about being cold even though by all rights he should probably just tease Pat instead, but — it’s nice, to be doted on.

Pat is doubly impressed by Brian’s motivation and initiative to prepare everything, because at some point in his pre-shower rushing around he must have changed the sheets, too, because they are different (bright vivid teal). They smell like Brian’s laundry detergent.

“Ah, shit, I gotta put stuff in the dryer. Give me five and I’ll come get in bed with you, okay?”

Pat high-fives him — badly, because Brian’s hand was just chilling at his side because he was not, in fact, offering a high-five — and Brian groans to cover a laugh. He kisses Pat’s head before he leaves the room.

Pat snuggles up beneath the blankets. His hair is still damp, but he doesn’t really care all that much; he’s too tired to care. He closes his eyes, too exhausted to keep them open, and it seems like only seconds later that Brian returns. 

Brian laughs softly as he settles, wraps around Pat, holding him close. “Hey, baby.”

“Mmh,” is Pat’s very coherent response, as he snuggles up.

Brian kisses his temple. “You’re cute. Sleep good, Pat, I love you.”

“I love you,” Pat murmurs, with a contented sigh, as Brian pets his hair, as he falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> HAHA GOTCHA!!!!!! THIS WAS JUST AN EXCUSE TO WRITE SELF-INDULGENT FLUFF!!!!!! BET YOU DIDNT SEE THAT COMING!!!!!!!! IM A MOVIE MAGIC PRO
> 
> @segmentcalled on twitter, comment if you req letting me know who you are! comments moderated and deleted if requested ♥


End file.
